Homily: Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time (C)
Sirach 35:12-14, 16-18 / 2 Timothy 4:6-8, 16-18 / Luke 18:9-14
26 October 2025
Fr. Ricky Cañet Montañez, AA
Imagine someone coming up to you to give you a big box containing ten (10) million pesos in cash, legitimately and tax free (‘Di po galing sa ghost project!’)…. but you are holding your phone and a bag in one hand and your favourite snack in the other. Would you drop everything to receive that gift? Sometimes we hold on to things we have too tightly and are unwilling to let go when we need to. We fail to receive God’s grace because our hands — and our hearts — are overflowing with ourselves.
In today’s gospel, Jesus tells the story of two men who went up to the temple to pray. The first was a Pharisee, a man known for his religious discipline. He stood tall and prayed, but his prayer sounded more like a report card: “I fast twice a week. I give tithes of all I possess.” (Luke 18:12) Then he added, “I am not like that tax collector over there.” (Luke 18:11) His focus was not really on God but on himself and his righteousness as compared to others. The tax collector, meanwhile, stood at a distance. He did not even dare to raise his eyes to heaven. His prayer was short, almost painfully honest: “O God, be merciful to me, a sinner.” (Luke 18:13) And Jesus tells us that it was this man — the sinner, not the religious man — who went home right with God.
The difference is simple but profound. The tax collector came before God with empty hands. The Pharisee came with hands full — full of pride, full of self-righteousness. The tax collector asked God for mercy, and he received it. Sirach tells us that “the prayer of the lowly pierces the clouds.” (Sirach 35:21) God hears the cry of those who come before Him with nothing but their need. God does not listen because we impress Him with our good deeds, but because we open our hearts to Him. That is the power of empty hands — they leave room for grace. St. Paul understood this. Near the end of his life, he writes to Timothy, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.” (2 Timothy 4:7) Those are not words of pride; they are words of surrender. Paul knows he has done his part, but he also knows that the crown of righteousness is pure gift. His hands are empty, but his heart is full of grace.
Sometimes, though, we forget this. Like the Pharisee, we can wear our faith like a badge of merit instead of a blessing. We might think, “I’m better than others because I go to Mass,” or “because I pray the rosary.” There are other Christian denominations who even think themselves better than Catholics because they read the Bible more, or are more spiritual. But whenever faith becomes a contest of who is holier or who is more right, we lose sight of what is sacred. The moment we start comparing, we stop praying. The moment we start feeling superior, we stop being humble before God. Faith is not about proving ourselves. It is about letting God love us. It is not about showing how full we are or how great we have become, but about admitting how much we still need. God’s mercy flows downward — to those who bow low, to those who come empty.
Lastly, it is important to note that the Pharisee asked for nothing from God, and so he received nothing. Sometimes, our obsession with our possessions and accomplishments keep us dissociated from our purpose and our mission in life that we fall complacent and are oblivious of what is needed around us. This shows as disinterest, a lack of passion and even nonchalance. You may recall someone having asked you what needs to be done and you dryly answer “Whatever!” or “I don’t care!”. We do not know what to ask for because we are not as involved or do not feel the need to be. When we are not mindful as workers, as parents, as children, as citizens of a nation we are unaware of what is needed to better our relationships and the impact we can achieve through our struggles. Remember that even in these matters, God is willing to help because He wants us to involve Him in our lives.
So today, maybe the Lord is inviting us to pray like the tax collector again — with the honesty that says, “Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner.” That short prayer, whispered with humility, is enough to open heaven. In the same way that we must not be afraid to ask, we must also be equally ready to receive. When we come before God empty, He fills us. When we come before Him proud, He lets us hold on to our pride — and nothing more. In the end, it is only empty hands that can be filled with grace, and only a humble heart that can go home justified.
Sunday Gospel Reflections 